


The emperor and the soldier

by manateehugger



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manateehugger/pseuds/manateehugger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cavilo works from behind the scenes to assassinate Gregor and take the throne of Barrayar. It's been 18 years in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jinn stood near the edge of one of the tallest buildings in the northern capital of Tecalt. It was only four stories high. The larger ones had already been bombed into rubble. Billions of dollars spent on infrastructure had been destroyed over a period of a week as the Fascist army led by Major General Necuametl Imogen had attempted to break the spirit of the citizens of the city and solidify another victory.  
The Fascists certainly seemed to be winning out against the opposing Democratic Front headed by the former head of government, Tenoch Matti. Which was why Jinn had decided to join up with the Democratic party. 

Jinn liked a challenge.

He’d been sitting up on the roof all day, rapid fire plasma gun in hand, shooting any advancing troops who came too close. He hadn’t seen another member of his regiment since breakfast time. There weren’t many of them still in the city to begin with. Unlike the Fascist army there were no rules in force to shoot deserters and butcher their families. This leniency meant that as the fighting became more fierce and more homes were destroyed more and more of soldiers seemed to disappear. 

Jinn didn’t mind. He liked to work alone. 

He spotted a group of men attempting to use parts from a cannibalized tank as shielding for their advance towards him. That was new. Gravtanks could take a certain amount of damage from plasma arcs, even high powered ones such as his, before giving way. They figured if they got close enough to him they could shoot him. They made their way through a narrow side street, hiding behind the tank shielding.

Did they think they could get into the building and up to him that way? They were proceeding towards one of the entrances, he noted. 

Fair enough, Jinn thought taking aim. He fired off one shot. Not at them, but at the building closest to them. It was already a pockmarked structure that had withstood a great deal of ground fighting. A block of cinder came off it, falling down towards the men below it. The man closest moved away from the falling debris. In that moment his head became visible above the shielding. 

Jinn took it off. 

One down. Three to go. 

The men didn’t try to retrieve their friend or kneel by his body. They stayed in formation, moving slowly, more clumsily without the aid of an extra person to carry the heavy metal in their hands.

He caught another one in the arm and then in the chest as the man failed to compensate for the loss of his friend and left himself exposed. 

The last two paused in their slow movement towards him, perhaps rethinking their position. Was the metal piece too heavy to carry with just the two of them? Were they moving to another plan? 

One attempted to bolt. Jinn shot him.

The last one stayed put, like a turtle retracted into his shell.

He was too far for Jinn to nail him with a needle grenade. 

Jinn waited a while, growing bored with this game. 

Something whistled past his ear and found a home in stairwell behind him. The explosion shook him, something tore into his back and causing intense pain. 

Jinn glanced down towards where the crouched man hid, wondering in bewilderment if an air strike had been called down on him.

Suddenly He could hear a gravtank approaching. That must have been what shot at him. More importantly he now saw it, traveling down the main boulevard with soldiers behind it. It reminded Jinn vaguely of a parade he had been to when he was little. 

He glanced back towards the stairwell. His exit was sealed. This escape would be difficult, not merely because now his only escape was the extremely exposed fire escape but because of the injury he’d received from the blast. No way to assess his wound now, he decided.

The tank fired again, aiming up towards him and firing. It’s missile crashing into the building, causing it to shake beneath his feet. 

Here he was, a lone gun man stuck on top of a tower. Close enough for the tank to demolish him and the building. His gun wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the tank's armor, and unlike the men who’d been using the cannibalized tank, there was no way to lure those men out. 

The tank moved closer, almost at a leisurely pace. Jinn wondered what the men behind it were thinking. Surely they anticipated that their luck was about to change.

Well, it would, he thought with a smile.

There were a few benefits of being a defender in a city. One was that you knew the ins and outs of it better than the attackers. But it also meant you had time to leave traps before your opponents arrived. 

Jinn activated his wristcomm and entered a series of numbers into it. He wasn’t calling anyone. He was activating a cache of daisy bombs just behind the tank. The explosion was better than any fireworks display he’d seen. An intense wave of heat briefly enveloped him as the bombs exploded.

“I have become death, the destroyer of worlds,” Jinn murmured to himself in satisfaction as he watched the survivors limp away from him. 

They would regroup, another tank would be found. The night bombings would continue. He didn’t think he’d changed much in the long run. But Jinn didn’t mind. He just loved a good war.

Jinn touched a hand to his back and came away with blood on it. He decided it would be better to get the wound looked at so he didn’t die of something silly, like tetanus. 

Still mindful of the last man hiding off to one side, Jinn carefully swung himself down the fire escape and attempted to make his way back to the Democratic Front’s headquarters.

He walked no more than five feet from the bottom of the fire escape when he felt someone close by. Finger on the trigger he turned to see a woman in the uniform of the Fascist front taking aim at him. He shot from the hip with little thought of aim. But she was close enough it hardly mattered, instinct was enough. She went down silently. The shot was the only noise exchanged between them. 

Jinn walked over towards the body. This one was young and had been beautiful once; until Jinn burned a hole in her head with his plasma gun. A pity, he thought gazing down at her. Still her boots looked fairly new. Perhaps they were a gift from her family back home or a lover. He pulled them off of her and continued on his way, mindful that there were plenty of enemy soldiers around.

 

He made it halfway back towards the Democratic Front's headquarters when he spotted Marisol. She was a young propaganda officer for the Democratic movement and his sometime lover. He didn’t know how old she was since she was always embarrassed to say, only that she’d graduated college and this is where her path had led her. To running around in gutted buildings spouting slogans in the hopes of staving off mass desertion for another day. But she was beautiful as she did it and who was he to tell people what to believe?

“Are these about your size,” he asked offering her the boots he’d taken from the dead soldier.

Marisol blinked at him as if he’d offered her a writhing fish. Odd, he thought. Any other woman would have recognized the amount of effort he’d gone to taking those boots in the first place and bringing them back. With the rapid approach of a harsh winter these were a handsome gift.

She smiled belatedly and accepted them. 

He noticed men dressed in Democratic uniforms behind her now. At least she wasn’t wandering around alone, he thought. The city was no place for a woman such as her to be by herself. Though he didn't recognize them.

“What’s the matter,” he asked.

“We received news a few hours ago, Tenoch Matti is dead,” she said shakily.

“I see,” he said quietly. The Fascists would take the city in a matter of days now, he thought. No way the Democratic army would continue to fight without a leader.

“ Yaotl Zolin has been elected,” she continued.

“Zolin? That man will turn this movement into something worse than the Fascist army,” Jinn snorted. Jinn never met the man in person, he’d only seen vids of him. But Jinn knew a psychopath when he saw one. 

“Zolin thinks we can’t win as we are. We need more weapons,” Marisol said.

“Well I could have told you that. Why are you –oh, Marisol,” he said with such intense disappointment.

She grabbed his arm as he attempted to raise his gun. One of the soldiers in the Democratic uniform shot him.


	2. Chapter 2

Jinn awoke on a bed in a small room. 

Some bastard shot me, he thought in indignation.

He pushed back the covers.

Some bastard shot me and took my clothes off. 

Jinn shivered at that. No telling what else the bastard had done. 

Jinn stood up on wobbly legs and managed not to puke as he made his way to the bathroom. 

This is definitely a ship, he thought looking around the metal hull. There were no windows in the cabin. It must be a real jumpship.

He left the bathroom and looked around the little room. He found clothes in a dresser, but they were not his clothes. The bathroom itself had been furnished with a generic toiletry kit. They’d even trusted him with a razor, albeit a small safety one. 

So they didn’t kill me. Well what do they want me for then? Who were they?

Jinn shivered harder even as he pulled some of the generic pants on. 

He checked the commconsole in the room, it turned on but failed to display anything on the screen.

Seconds later the door opened without warning. 

In walked a middle aged man in greens. He did not look happy. Fortunately for Jinn he did not look like one of Jinn’s mother’s soldiers.

The man raised an eyebrow, “why are you smiling like an idiot?”

“Just glad to be alive, I guess. Who the hell are you,” Jinn asked.

“I am Colonel Viktor Vorgonav. But to you I will be your bodyguard, jailor and interrogator. Do you understand Flavius,” Vorgonav demanded coolly.

The smile fell off Jinn’s lips. So this fellow was Barrayaran? Seemed to be, based on the name. Combine what Jinn knew of Barrayaran interrogation and what he could tell from this man’s demeanor and Jinn knew he was in a great deal of trouble. Not the sort of trouble you were in when the principal caught you releasing pigs into the boys’ bathroom. But the sort of trouble where someone broke every bone in your body.

“I hate that name, don’t call me that,” Jinn stated quietly.

Vorgonav frowned, “you will be addressed by your given name now and during your interrogations. No room will be allowed for trickery. We know who you are.” 

“You can’t be serious. I don’t have any secrets worth interrogating me over,” Jinn stated.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Nevski, Stephenopolous, take him down to the medical bay,” Vorgonav ordered.

Two large ogres of men grabbed Jinn and frog marched him down, despite his protests. Jinn was deft with a gun, but he was not a large man and it was difficult to win a fight when he couldn’t manage to get any leverage.

“I’m a citizen of Beta, you can’t do this,” Jinn declared.

“Oh, we know that one of your aliases is a citizen of Beta. Of course one of your aliases is a citizen of Faroese, one is a citizen of Janatpour and one is a citizen of Cetaganda. Which is convenient as we are constantly ferreting out spies from there,” Vorgonav stated with a satisfied smile that might have simply been him baring his teeth. 

“You kidnapped me, how can I be spying on you when I obviously want nothing to do with Barrayar,” Jinn demanded.

They said nothing.

“It wasn’t even your city or soldiers I was blowing up and Barrayar has not declared its desire to aid either side of this conflict,” Jinn pointed out.

The guards hauled him into the medical bay and dropped him in a chair. A white man in a similarly white lab coat looked up from a kit he had spread out on a table. He frowned slightly at the colonel but went back to his prep. 

The man stated, “relax boy, it’s just a bit of fast penta. No need to have a hissy fit.”

“But I’m allergic,” Jinn complained.

He’d found that out on Nuevos Brasilia when their state police had briefly gotten their hands on him. Jinn had been fortunate in that it had been the regular police force and not their secret police who wouldn’t have cared.

The man in the doctor's coat raised an eyebrow and came forward with a patch.

“Just relax boy, let’s see if it’s true,” the man stated, his name tag read Belshov.

They waited. Belshov pulled back the patch and within minutes the skin turned a light pink.

“Ah, well you do have a mild allergy,” Belshov stated frowning slightly.

“We can continue if it’s only mild, just give the brat something for the reaction,” Vorgolav suggested.

Belshov winced, “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Well what do you recommend? That I rip off his toes. The emperor has requested and required very specific information. I will do my duty as both an officer in his fleet and as a member of the vor with your help or without it,” Vorgolav declared.

Belshov was silent a moment before turning to rummage in a cabinet, “at least you won’t remember this.”

Jinn leapt up from the chair and tried to make a break for it. He didn’t have a specific plan to escape, he had a powerful instinct and he followed it. The guards tackled him. Jinn was dosed with fast penta and a powerful antihistamine mixed with a sedative. 

Jinn didn’t remember the interrogation.

Jinn didn’t know how long he spent staring at the bare ceiling of his room, his little cell, after they brought him back up.

He did remember quite vividly the color of his vomit as he threw up though. 

He was also fully aware and thoroughly miserable when his body told him he was hungry and yet he couldn’t stand to eat the reddimeal shoved into his room. 

It didn’t help that there were more interrogations to follow. 

More lost hours.

After a fifth or sixth or maybe even seventh session with the colonel, Jinn walked into the bathroom. 

Belshov, the doctor had warned him not to shower with hot water. Belshov was worried Jinn would faint. Jinn turned on the hot water. Then he opened the toiletry kit, the one he hadn’t bothered to open since the first day. Jinn spilled the contents in the sink and took out the razor. The blade was tiny. He would never be able to harm one of his guards with it. 

A bit of a pity really. 

Murder and vengeance played through his mind. It was a brief montage of butchering the crew. Jinn smiled at the thought while realizing that was impossible. 

Still. This was better than nothing.

It hurt like hell of course as he carved his way up one arm. Black blood turning red as it was introduced to the oxygen of the room. Jinn was only angry that he hadn’t managed to go very deep. 

He briefly considered carving something witty into his arms. 

He gave up on that and merely wrote crude messages in his own blood on the walls, because why not? 

Stupid safety razor, he thought.

But he was pretty light headed at this point. 

So maybe the blade wasn’t so stupid, Jinn decided as he slumped down in the shower. The steaming hot water made the blood run faster too, he noted as the crimson streams flowed forth from his wrists, down a pant leg and swirled in the drain.


	3. Chapter 3

Jinn awoke to find that his arms were wrapped tightly in bandages and his hands were tied to the sides of a bed with thick, soft, safety straps.

Stupid safety razor, Jinn thought angrily. He renewed his curses at the useless piece of metal.

The colonel wasn’t happy. The doctor wasn’t happy. 

But the interrogations stopped. 

They even let him return to his little room, which was at least private. They’d taken his toiletry kit. But Jinn managed to get the commconsole working and he didn’t see anyone for the rest of the flight. 

 

Miles walked up towards the Residence and paused as he caught a look at crown prince Ezar playing with his mother and younger brother in the back garden. 

“Good Morning Miles,” Empress Laisa stated offering him a wan smile.

The news of Gregor’s son obviously still troubled her. The fact that Gregor was set to meet the boy today to decide what to do with him likely didn’t help matters.

“Good morning Empress,” Miles stated with a wan smile of his own.

Miles was torn on the issue himself. On one hand Miles’s mother, Cordelia had compared it to finding out about Mark. Cordelia Vorkosigan had set a precedent for accepting wayward sons who had been trained as assassins. Gregor seemed compelled to follow. Truthfully Miles knew little about the boy having only read the reports on him. 

ImpSec had found out about the boy and his location because of an informant. The informant had claimed the boy was completing his training in order to assassinate Gregor and ascend the throne with his mother Cavilo, as chief adviser. The informant had subsequently disappeared, whether due to his own volition or by force, no one knew. What they did know was that the boy was not even in contact with his mother much less planning to steal Gregor’s throne. There was also no room for interpretation as the colonel had been very thorough in asking questions with as many permutations as possible. Based on the vids the Colonel Vorgolav seemed to even gain a level of satisfaction on being that thorough. 

It didn’t sound like it would be rewarded though. After the boy had tried to kill himself Gregor ordered a stop to the interrogations and an explanation for what had gone wrong. Colonel Vorgolav painted the boy as mentally unstable. Meanwhile the ship’s doctor, Igor Belshov who had been overseeing the interrogations from a medical perspective, had gone the length of listing the drugs the boy had been getting along with the fast penta. He seemed to believe that the boy’s attempted suicide had been inevitable due to the cocktail of drugs. 

The story was unclear. Gregor was displeased and distressed as a result. Miles was perfectly ready to get to the bottom of things. 

He was a little annoyed that Gregor wasn’t bringing him unto the jumpship tonight to talk to the boy. Miles thought Gregor had invited Laisa to go up with him. The empress had uncharacteristically declined. Which was one reason Miles was against this whole meeting. Mark had at least been the son of both Count and Countess Vorkosigan. While Miles believed his mother would have still invited Mark into the home even if he was just the Count’s son or even the Count’s clone he wasn’t sure Laisa was ready for that. 

Gregor had already promised that he would make no alterations to the line of ascension to the throne. This boy would never be a part of that. 

It was a question of whether the boy would live in the Vorbarra household at all or if he would be sent elsewhere. Miles doubted that Gregor would kill the boy, even if he displayed psychopathic behavior. No, in a well-controlled environment such as the ship, Gregor could afford to be lenient with his own conscience and with the boy. If the boy turned out to be psychopathic then Gregor would have him sent quietly off to Beta Colony under an assumed name for treatment. 

“Is Gregor in his study,” Miles inquired.

Laisa sighed and nodded, “I invited Gregor out to play with the boys, Henri, get off that rock darling, but he said he was busy just now. I suppose he might come out for a bit. But you know how distracted he’s been of late.”

Another aspect of this debacle was Gregor was distracted of late. He’d transferred some of his work to his minister’s. But what the man really needed, in Miles’s opinion, was a stiff drink and a vacation, not another kid.

Perhaps things would have been easier if they’d learned about the boy sooner when he was younger and still cute. Cute and malleable so you could get the poison of Cavilo out, Miles thought as he entered the Residence.

The boy was thought to be seventeen or eighteen at this point, a similar age to when Mark had been discovered during the initial plot to kill Miles and then assassinate his father. So the argument went, if Mark, having lived with Galen and his insanity for some time could be turned around, certainly this boy could be healed as well. 

But Mark looked like Miles, Mark had the eyes of their mother. This boy had the ice blue eyes of Cavilo. 

It bothered Miles, though he knew rationally it shouldn’t. The boy had Gregor’s dark black hair at least, though he grew it long for conservative Barrayar. His skin was pale, something that could have come from Cavilo or Gregor or both. But he was small, not as small as Cavilo but definitely on the lower end of average for Barrayaran men and beautiful rather than handsome. Being five-eighths Betan Miles never would have thought that would bother him. In most men it didn’t, but in this one it seemed one more indication of Cavilo’s influence.

Still, if Gregor wanted to keep the boy, then he was Miles’s liege-lord and Miles would follow him anywhere, even off a cliff. But Miles would be tactical about it and make sure they were wearing thermal float jackets so they wouldn’t drown or freeze to death if the water was too cold. Even the most loyal servant didn’t follow his master blindly without thinking ahead.

“Sire, Imperial Auditor Vorkosigan is here,” Kevi announced.

“Thank you, Kevi,” Gregor said.

Someone was already in the room, it was General Alexi Vorptugalov, General Allegre’s number two man at Impsec and head of the analysis department.

“With all due respect Sire, there is no shame in sending the boy off to some far off outpost, under the care of competent individuals of course. Consider the effect this will have on your other planets. Think of Komarr and learn that you only accepted Lady Toscane after throwing away a galactic. The Komarrans will wonder why a Komarran wasn’t good enough in the first place! Think of the effect it’ll have on the conservatives who will wonder why a vor woman was never good enough!”

“I have,” Gregor said in a quiet voice that might be misinterpreted for patience. 

Miles wondered if the general would get the hint.

“At least think of the cryptic messages he wrote on the wall in blood for god’s sake. That’s not normal. What does he even mean by ‘make a canoe out of this bitch’,” the general demanded.

Miles also thought back to the photos of the room, taken by some over-meticulous captain who sought to document everything.  
The haikus on the wall had been amusing.

One had gone:

Sprawled out on the street

Cute medic arrives to help

Should have worn clean shorts.

The second one Miles remembered was:

Wearing a white gown

The enema stains it brown

Proctology is crap

The ‘See you in hell bastards’ printed across one door was less entertaining.

“Yes, general, it gives me all the more reason to talk to him,” Gregor stated.

The general started to say something but stopped as he saw Miles’s frantic shut-up-you-idiot gestures.

Gregor seemed in the mood to send the general to Sergyar to aid in the most recent outbreak of drug resistant worm plague that was rocking the colony if the man didn’t shut up. 

Gregor caught the gesture too and offered Miles a tempered smile, “thank you general, if there’s nothing more to discuss you my go now.”

The general reluctantly left.

“So, my lord auditor, do you also think this is a waste of time,” Gregor asked bleakly.

Miles shrugged, “if you go up and talk to the boy I suppose you’ll figure that out sooner than I will. Though I’d be glad to come along.”

The suspense was killing him. Under fast penta the boy had stated he had no desire to kill Gregor or take the throne. 

Actually what he’d said was, “Oh god I hate talking to people and I have like zero patience for political bullshit. I’d just start shooting ministers for being annoying and at the end of my first day in office I’d be surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies. Then of course we’d have a famine and I would be like shit, I shouldn’t have shot everyone. Then I’d have to deal with an angry mob and I don’t want to go out like Louis XVI. I’d really like to avoid the whole being in charge thing.”

Gregor had watched that bit and sighed, “at least he’s honest about his abilities.”

Still, even if the boy wasn’t actively seeking the throne his very presence would cause various factions to try to recruit him as a figurehead. Aside from that, the son of an emperor, even the bastard son of an emperor was expected to behave well and perform certain necessary state duties. 

It was one thing to dismiss Mark from helping with the wedding dinners when Gregor was getting married. That wouldn’t work with Gregor’s son. He would be expected to hold his own. That might be stressful for the kid, and depending on just how much Cavilo had screwed the boy up would affect whether it was better for him to just be clandestinely shipped off to Beta Colony or elsewhere. 

Gregor sighed, “I wish your mother was here to come along and speak with Flavius. Of course when there’s a crisis in one portion of the empire something else is happening on the other side of it as well. I’m sure your father would be here warning me about stretching my resources too damn thin.”

“Erm, would it help if I invited the empress and her boys over for dinner tonight? Maybe it’ll give the twins something to do besides drive Ekaterin to distraction,” Miles suggested.

Gregor shook his head, “thank you, no. I… I’m leaving shortly to meet with Flavius now. I haven’t told the boys about him yet. I wasn’t sure if I ought to since I’m not certain that staying would be suitable for him just yet. But I thought that if he does it might be best to introduce them over dinner.”

“I see, well if there’s anything I can do to help,” Miles began.

“If you could keep my ministers and advisers from coming in here every few minutes to tell me how to deal with Flavius I would appreciate that,” Gregor stated.

Miles was silent a moment, “when the stress of work and various ministers was too much for my father then my mother had only one solution. Get him out of the house so they couldn’t find him.”

Gregor smiled at that.

“Your kids are playing in the garden, Gregor,” Miles stated.

“Well I don’t know if that will stop my adviser’s from finding me. But a few minutes outside might help me concentrate,” Gregor stated standing up.

Miles headed out with him and watched Gregor with his little family. Well, most of the family. Their youngest child, Princess Kareen, was napping. That and there was a boy in space.


	4. Chapter 4

Jinn was watching a funny cat vid when his door opened. The Barrayarans never knocked, they just barged in. He didn’t know if this was because he was a prisoner or because it was customary on Barrayar to enter a room by bursting through the door, ready to do battle with whoever the current occupants were. 

One man, a captain by his tabs, stepped in, “get dressed boy. You have a visitor.”

“You mean I have to put pants on,” Jinn asked in annoyance getting up and shuffling over to the dresser.

The captain frowned at him but said nothing.

Jinn supposed it was a good enough sign that he was being asked to do these things rather than simply being forced to do them. Still, this didn’t bode well for him. 

He pulled on some pants, and at a stern looks from the captain found a clean shirt and followed the man out of the room. They traveled upwards and into what looked like the commanding officer’s dining room. Of course there was no commanding officer. Just a single, tall, thin man in a business suit. That and two guards at each entry and exit, Jinn noticed.

The man seemed distracted by the view of the planet through one of the windows. Jinn glanced at it as well. Barrayar meant nothing to him.

“Sire,” the captain said, quietly. It was more of a whisper really.

Clearly the captain wasn’t used to speaking to men like this one.

The man in the business suit smiled, it seemed genuine enough, “thank you Captain Bialystok.”

The captain saluted then scampered off.

The man then indicated a chair in front of him, “Flavius, please sit. Do you know who I am?”

Jinn raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry. Do you not know who you are? Damn, but you just failed a mental status exam with that question.”

Gregor offered an indulgent smile, the sort a man might give a smart ass child even if he was secretly thinking about backhanding the child. 

“I was merely wondering how much you knew. I thought that there was no point in going over information that we both knew, and I was hoping for your perspective on things,” Gregor explained patiently.

“You already have my perspective on things. At least you should if you watched any of those interrogation vids that I’m sure the colonel sent you. That was you who ordered them, wasn’t it,” Jinn asked.

Gregor winced, “Yes. It was. Though I didn’t realize when I gave the order that it would be upsetting for you... I was not trying to punish you.”

Jinn considered this statement then sat down, “So then what did you think you were doing?”

Gregor considered this question, then seemed to consider how best to answer it. Gregor obviously wasn’t planning on giving Jinn the whole truth. 

“Nearly two months back Our intelligence agents received word from an informant about your existence,” Gregor explained.

“Oh,” Jinn inquired feeling all the color drain from his face. Had she figured out where he was then? What was this game?

“So you immediately decided to do your paternal duty and kidnap me,” Jinn asked. He thought he ought to say something, even as his mind tried to wrap itself around the idea of an informant knowing his location. Who was it? He was sure it was one of his mother's men but how and, and why and, well he knew the why. At least he could guess at the why. Damn, he’d been careless. You know this is just what she wants, Jinn almost blurted. But he held that back. Nope, no sir, no reason to give this fellow any more information than he already had.

If you’re going to censor your answer then, fuck you I can do it too, Jinn thought angrily watching Gregor.

Gregor hesitated, “We, I had an interest in meeting you, for personal reasons. But I must admit that as the emperor of Barrayar I cannot separate my role as father from my role as emperor; I can’t allow my personal feelings to interfere with what is best for the public.”

“What you mean is that you thought I was trying to steal your throne and you were going to kill me,” Jinn surmised.

Gregor did not visibly wince, but a slight inhalation of breath was all the confirmation Jinn needed.

Gregor was about to speak when Jinn cut him off.

“You know there are a lot of stories about fathers who try to pull that shit, Oedipus’s father for one. Then Arthur from Camelot thought it was a great plan to murder a bunch of babies in the hopes of killing off his bastard,” Jinn stated angrily. Jinn paused before speaking again, “Though of course in Arthur’s case his first mistake was banging his half-sister. You and my mother aren’t secretly related are you?”

Gregor sighed, “No. That is at least one thing I am sure of. But Flavius I-“

“Don’t call me that. It’s such a stupid name. She always has to pick these ridiculous names because of their hidden meaning,” Jinn said sitting back.

Gregor raised his eyebrows. Obviously he wasn’t aware.

Jinn sighed and reluctantly explained, “ In 475AD Romulus Augustulus, a child, was named emperor of Rome. He was used as a figurehead by his father for ten months until the barbarian Flavius Odoacer murdered his father and sent Romulus to live on a farm somewhere. Since Flavius never claimed to be an emperor, Romulus Augustulus is considered the last emperor of Rome.” 

Gregor blinked at this, taking in the full implications of this. Barrayar was a mixture of Russian, French, English and Greek peoples, but it also held cultural ties to the Roman Empire. Cavilo viewed Barrayar as Rome, and she saw her son and herself as the Barbarian conquerors in this story. 

“I didn’t think your mother wanted to send me to live on a farm somewhere,” he said with a weak smile.

“I think she was implying that you were a little boy who didn’t know what he was doing,” Jinn said irritably.

They sat in silence.

“What was Flavius’s rule like,” Gregor inquired.

Jinn shrugged.

“He got murdered by a rival king. Pretty typical for the time period.”

Silence.

“So what would you like to be called,” Gregor asked.

“I go by Jinn,” Jinn said.

“Like the mythical creatures? I was under the impression that they’re a type of demon,” Gregor noted.

Jinn smiled at that, “I like the ring of it. I also figure I’d make a good villain. You seemed to think so too or you wouldn’t have kidnapped me.”

Gregor sighed at this, “I wish it were easy. That I could come and go as I pleased. But I have a duty to my empire and you would not have come willingly.”

Jinn scowled, “so what if I wouldn’t? What right do you have to make me. I’m not a child, you don’t have legal guardianship over me. Moreover there is nothing you have that I want.”

“I can offer you protection. I know you’re afraid of your mother,” Gregor said quietly.  
Do you know people are afraid of me on Tecalt? They half believe I’m some ancient Aztec demon, Jinn wanted to declare. It was a slap in the face. Not merely that Gregor suggested Jinn was afraid of a woman under five feet tall, but that he was right.

“You’re afraid of her too,” Jinn shot back, embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Gregor said.

“I don’t care how you meant it. I don’t want to hide on Barrayar,” Jinn said.

“You’d prefer to hide elsewhere,” Gregor asked leaning back.

Jinn didn’t say anything.

“That is why you head out to planets in such disarray isn’t it? I apologize for not learning about you sooner. But in the time you’ve been traveling here, we’ve managed to trace your history back several planets. You like the ones that are highly corrupt, or in a state of civil war or unrest. I imagine it's easier to hide there when there is no central government to register who is entering or leaving the planet. You count on that don’t you,” Gregor inquired.

“Maybe I do it because I like the unrest itself,” Jinn said, folding his arms over his chest.

“The violence? Yes I remember some mention of that in your interrogation vids. You spoke about enjoying the fighting. Do you think that like the original Flavius you’re only capable of fighting wars? Does peacetime truly bother you so much,” Gregor asked.

“Hey man, I’m always being told to do what I’m good at. I happen to be really good at killing people,” Jinn said.

“Do you want to be good at other things,” Gregor asked slowly.

“Like what? Playing the oboe? Writing my memoirs? Getting married and raising a bunch of kids? Finding out my wife is fucking the gardener who we supposedly hired to water the azaleas? You think I want that kind of life,” Jinn inquired with a look of irritation.

“I’m sorry about the woman on Tecalt,” Gregor said quietly.

Jinn shrugged, “I knew she was using me. I just thought - well and anyway how much was I worth to them? How many guns did you give the Democratic Front in exchange for me?”

“A thousand plasma rifles and a small tank battalion, thirty grav tanks in total,” Gregor said. 

“Thirty grav tanks? I could have destroyed that number in two weeks,” Jinn stated in dismay.

Gregor was polite enough to conceal his skepticism, mostly. Jinn could see it in his eyes though.

“Besides, what have you got against being good at war? Doesn’t’ Barrayar love its warriors? Who doesn’t enjoy being able to get away with things you couldn’t do during peace time,” Jinn asked.

Gregor’s face twisted at this comment.

“I meant getting to shoot an air to air missile from a moving lightflyer. Don’t start with me about that rape bullshit. That’s a Barrayaran problem. Having lived with my mother I’m a big fan of consent and I always ask beforehand,” Jinn stated.

Gregor raised his eyebrows at this.

“What? Like’s its hard? People respect the uniform. If you say “I’m probably going to die tomorrow in the service of this movement would you mind fucking me against every piece of furniture in this house, please and thank you,” not everyone will do it. But there are plenty of women who are more than happy to render whatever aid they can,” Jinn said.

“I don’t have much experience with that,” Gregor admitted distractedly, still digesting this bit of information.

“I know, my mother told me you live in a guilded cage,” Jinn said.

Gregor seemed to consider this comment but did not respond to it, “You’re not afraid of dying. You’re afraid of a lack of choice.”

“Does that seem silly to you? When you’re dead, you’re dead. Nothing is going to hurt you. But living in a cage, having someone else control you. I don’t want to live like that,” Jinn said with a shiver.

He was immediately embarrassed by that involuntary movement.

Gregor considered him calmly, “As I see it you think you have a few choices, you want to run away again to some far off planet, but you could also stay here on Barrayar or one of its daughter planets.”

“Stay here? What with you and your family? Are you kidding,” Jinn scoffed.

“I’m wondering if that informant was not betraying Cavilo so much as he was being fed information to give to us. Meaning she knows where you are regardless. You could try to go back into hiding but if she found you once she will surely find you again. I could send you off to Sergyar or Komarr if you’d like, but you may face the same problems. You could stay at the heart of the Barrayaran empire with me,” Gregor said simply.

“Don’t you understand that’s exactly what she wants,” Jinn said in exasperation.

“But why? You’ve told me you have no interest in the empire. You mention you’re only interested in the challenge of violence, not violence itself per se. How would it be challenging to kill me while my guard is down? With you in the Residence Cavilo would have to go through Imperial Security and my palace guard to get to you,” Gregor pointed out reasonably.

Jinn stared at the man before him, “you’re insane.”

“Do you want to kill me,” Gregor asked.

“Not right now. I mean I’d like to beat the crap out of you for kidnapping me and all this, but I mean if you’re not even going to fight back it would uncomfortable,” Jinn admitted. That wouldn’t stop him if he wasn’t in control of himself though.

“So it’s settled,” Gregor said.

Jinn felt an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. You should tell him. Tell him there’s something wrong with you. 

But Jinn didn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

Gregor studied his son in the semi-darkness of the aircar they’d taken from the Vorbarra Sultana shuttleport. Despite the perennial traffic around them that defined Vorbarra Sultana airspace, they moved at a reasonable pace. 

Jinn had his head back and was resting with his eyes closed against the seatback. Gregor wasn’t certain that he was asleep. But he didn’t disturb the boy. 

From what Xio had stated under fast penta it seemed he’d run away from his mother sometime after his fifteenth birthday for reasons that were still unclear. The boy had babbled something about her making him sick. The Barrayaran medical team on board the ship reported no chronic illness or anything which would be deadly or contagious. Gregor had assumed the boy was talking about a mental sickness. But Coloenl Vorgolav had been persistent in attempting to ferret out what the illness was. Vorgolav had gone down the list of every single mental illness in the Betan Diagnostic Mental Status Exam. As far as the boy knew he had none of those disorders. Which was not to say that Jinn did not have one of them, merely that he’d never been told he had a specific disorder. It was possible to lie under fast penta if you didn’t know the truth. Then again, with all the information Cavilo had on Gregor’s family perhaps she’d been feeding storied to Jinn about his genetics. 

Gregor knew from the interrogation vids and from speaking with the boy that Jinn courted violence. But Gregor did not think the boy was psychopathic. 

Still, Gregor had been wrong before. 

Gregor knew that he was only human, even if some of his people treated him as if he were god-like.

He did not intend to allow anyone to suffer if he was wrong about the boy. Both ImpSec and the palace guards had been warned about Jinn and the delicate nature of Jinn’s presence and relationship to the rest of the family. Both ImpSec and the guards were present to protect the emperor’s family from all directions.

Immediately after the aircar landed Jinn opened his eyes. 

 

“Is this the Imperial Residence,” Jinn asked as they stepped out.  
“Yes, this is home,” Gregor said leading the boy up towards the back entryway. Guards stationed there opened the doors for them before they entered. They did not pat Jinn down or scan him, but then he’d gone immediately from being a prisoner on a Barrayaran courier ship to being a houseguest in the palace.

“I would like to introduce you to the boys, your half brothers and my wife over dinner tonight. But I imagine you’d like to get settled in first,” Gregor explained as they climbed a flight of stairs up to the second floor.

“Why,” Jinn asked.

“Because they’re your family,” Gregor said patiently.

A curl of his lip indicated the Jinn found this idea distasteful.

“For the first night I had this room cleared out for you. It’s down the hall from mine and Laisa’s,” Gregor explained opening the door.

The room which had been chosen for Jinn was painted light gray with large windows looking out unto the back gardens. Jinn strolled over to the window to look out. With his arms croosed over his chest, Jinn held himself as if he were cold, though it was only early autumn. 

“I did take the liberty of having clothes made for you,” Gregor stated indicating the box on the bed.

Jinn looked over at Gregor and then at the box on the bed. He moved back over towards Gregor and opened it. 

The boy paused then and stared down at the Vorbarra cadet uniform before pulling it out slowly. Jinn held the tunic a moment before stretching the sleeves as if to see how far they reached. It was a slow, methodic action performed with a look of great preoccupation on Jinn’s face.

After that was accomplished he did not put the garment down and continue looking at the rest of the clothes. The tunic remained bunched up in his hands. His face bunched up as well and reminded Gregor of broken glass.

Gregor understood that there was something wrong. 

“Jinn,” Gregor inquired softly.

Jinn blinked rapidly and set the tunic down on the bed before looking up.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about how this reminded me of a horror story,” Jinn said. His face no longer resembled broken glass. He had returned to his look of detached preoccupation.

“Not bluebeard I hope,” Gregor responded with a slight smile.

“No. It’s the one about the adventurer. He frequently took solo hiking trips. He climbed Pico Do Saudade and greatly enjoyed the vacation until he returned home and looked through his vidpix. Since he had been traveling alone he didn’t know who had taken pictures of him when he was sleeping,” Xio explained picking up a new garment. It was a black tunic with black lining, meant for funerals.

Gregor absorbed this information. A man by himself would be vulnerable to attack by others. This vulnerability would be exacerbated by the state of unconsciousness. It didn’t take extensive knowledge of psychology to realize Jinn felt out of place here. Gregor did not expect that simply telling the boy he was safe would be enough to make Jinn feel safe. 

If you expect the impossible you might have to wait a little while, Gregor thought, paraphrasing something Cordelia had once told him.

He hoped he could give Jinn time.   
“I thought you needed some time to think. But the boys also have a bed time to maintain. I’ve informed the staff to have dinner ready in half an hour. One of the armsmen will escort you down around them. In the meantime… well, if you need anything a member of my staff is within earshot at all times,” Gregor stated.

Jinn nodded but offered no comment. He was still looking at the clothing.

Gregor waited until he left the boy’s room before emitting a sigh. All this and he still had to check over several documents his deputies hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sign even in his brief absence. 

The work of an emperor was never done.

 

Jinn half heartedly flipped through the rest of his clothes, wondering uneasily how they’d gotten clothes that fit him so perfectly.

No, he didn’t wonder. He knew.

They measured you stupid. They probably measured you when you were half conscious after a fast penta interrogation and that’s why you don’t remember. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought.

He’d been mugged before when he was younger. That had involved a knife being pressed to his chest. But it hadn’t bothered him like this. At least he was awake for that, he could remember what happened and he had been able to make decisions, albeit limited ones, for himself. 

Being unaware and unable to consent to what was being done to him bothered Jinn far more.

Jinn had never been a good child. He swore, got into fights and never paid attention to any of his tutors. But his worst crime was that he had been disobedient. 

Jinn and Cavilo had fought one evening, verbally and physically. Jinn had hit his mother hard enough to knock her down. At twelve he had been bigger than her. He hadn’t held back either and it had felt so good to bury his fist in her nose. The crunch had been satisfying. 

Jinn had expected things to change on the ship after that. He had hoped that Cavilo wouldn’t treat him like a prop anymore. She had been nicer to him for a while. At least until they arrived at Jackson’s Whole, supposedly as part of one of her mercenary contracts.

Jinn had drunk something at breakfast the day they arrived planetside on Jackson’s Whole. He’d woken up in a strange room. His mother had been seated at the end of the bed. Cavilo had told him he had been bad. She had found someone to fix him. 

The treatments, as she euphemistically called them, started that day. He was drugged again, this time via injection from a merciless medtech. When he woke up in the strange room again he was exhausted. Jinn slept a few hours and woke to someone else coming in to administer another knock out drug. He still didn’t know how long this went on for.   
When his mother had finally returned for him Jinn had been overjoyed to see her. He had been very obedient. For a time.

But the next time Jinn had argued with Cavilo she smirked and used a phrase. Then she asked him to hop on one foot. He did it. He didn’t want to do it, but he found himself doing it.

She used it on Jinn when he was being recalcitrant. Cavilo always wore a particular look of pleasure at watching him finally obey. 

Jinn didn’t know the specifics of what happened, though he knew when he had a brain scan done later there was no chip, no metal attachments or obvious alterations in his brain. There was nothing that could be removed or destroyed to prevent Jinn from obeying her.

So Jinn had slipped out one day while they were in dock on Aslund. He’d wondered then how it had been so easy. Now he wondered if she hadn’t been tracking him this whole time. She knew he was on Tecalt, because one of her people had informed the Barrayarans. 

So what was she waiting for? 

How many of her people had infiltrated the Barrayaran Residence? 

Jinn didn’t think she would trust anyone else with the phrase to trigger him. She’d keep that power to herself. 

Still, the whole prospect was terrifying. More so because Jinn knew that telling the emperor what had happened to Jinn was the same thing as telling the emperor that Jinn wasn’t trustworthy. That Jinn could never be trustworthy. They would have to lock him up or kill him. 

A quick death didn’t bother Jinn. But to think they’d hold him down to experiment on him, to figure out just what it was that got him to obey, perhaps in the hopes of catching Cavilo, that was his nightmare. That or being pushed off into some mental hospital or country estate, to live a half conscious life where nightmares and reality blurred because they kept him drugged to the gills, that was what terrified him.

Jinn shivered. He’d keep his mouth shut.


	6. Chapter 6

True to the emperor’s word a palace guard with a serious face arrived precisely thirty minutes later to lead Jinn downstairs to a small dining room. As he entered the room Jinn was hit by an ice pick just above his left eye, metaphorically.

The pain made him think immediately of the first symptom of a subarachnoid hematoma, a thunderclap head ache. For a moment Jinn couldn’t tell if his brains were bleeding out. Jinn heard the guard make introductions then leave. But he was distracted by this strange smell that reminded him of rotting eggs. Was it some Barrayaran delicacy?

“Jinn, would you care to sit down,” Gregor asked waving to one of the empty chairs around the little dining room table.

Jinn glanced at Gregor then the woman next to him, empress Laisa Vorbarra. _It would feel so good to slit her throat_ , his mind whispered suddenly and seductively to him.

His second immediate thought was, _where the hell did that come from_?

Jinn had no qualms about killing people on a battle field. He even idly mused about the best ways to kill friends and relatives. But that was always more a mental exercise than an urgent desire.

 _There aren’t any knives on the table. Use the fork. No, no get the guard, get a plasma arc_. His mind whispered even as his head pounded.

“Are you alright,” Gregor asked. They were both staring at him with concern and distrust. Jinn realized he must have been glaring.

He unclenched his jaw, “I’m… very sorry. You know I just have this headache. Could I get some pain meds please.”

When Jinn was very drunk or distracted but attempting not to convey that, he always spoke with clear enunciation and was extremely polite.

Gregor accepted this statement at face value and asked a servant to bring meds. Laisa looked less convinced. Did she know what Jinn was thinking? The servant handed the meds to Jinn who sat down and took them with water from his glass at the table. _Pills aren’t a good way to kill her. Pills are boring._ He glanced out one of the floor to ceiling windows towards the back gardens. _Think of all the tools they use to keep those bushes trimmed and the grass mowed_. He glanced back at Laisa. _The weedwhacker would do nicely when pressed to her face_. Jinn could feel the sweat trickle on his back. He wondered how long before his shirt was soaked. He did not wonder why this was happening, no doubt it was some conditioning by Cavilo. Jinn wondered how this was happening.

“Dada,” came the squeals of two little children who ran in. A tutor admonished them but Gregor waved the admonishment away as the boys scampered over to hug him, then their mother before sitting down. One of the children was about eight. The other was six or so. Both had short black hair. The smaller one had brown eyes like his father. The bigger one had the green eyes of his mother. _How hard would it be to drown the two of them? Just hold their heads underwater until they stopped kicking_. Jinn poured himself more water. The family was talking around him. The little one was saying something to Gregor but Jinn couldn’t concentrate. _You could just pick him up by his ankles and bash his head against a wall. It wouldn’t be that hard, he’s probably very light._ Jinn’s undershirt was now soaked. The little one turned to look up at Jinn.

Jinn jumped up knocking his chair over. The conversation around him stopped.

“I’m really not feeling well. I think I’m going to go up,” Jinn said already stumbling out of the room.

He couldn’t tell if Gregor said something. Even before he reached his room Jinn was taking off his clothes. It was suddenly too damn hot in here. He opened the windows as far as they would go and ripped the blankets off his bed, throwing them to the side before lying down. He was jittery but exhausted.

Jinn lay there for a while. His thoughts were finally his own again.

So what triggered his reaction to Gregor’s family? Jinn had read somewhere that humans actually had a good sense of smell. There were theories that people fell in love based on subconscious attractions such as being able to smell if their potential partner had dissimilar major histocompatibility complexes. Jinn didn’t know how true that was. He only knew that while sitting in the room with Laisa and her sons Jinn could only think about how good it would feel to murder them violently. It was an obsession. But as soon as he left the room his thoughts cleared.

Jinn came fully awake, out of a semi-somnolent state, when he heard the door to his room open. The figure paused in the doorway. Had Gregor guessed the problem and sent someone to deal with Jinn? Dress shoes clicked across the wooden floorboards and a man came in to close Jinn’s window. Gregor turned and looked at Jinn.

Jinn kept his eyes closed, and his breathing even. If Gregor knew that Jinn was only pretending to sleep he said nothing about it. Gregor moved over to the foot of the bed and picked up one of the blankets. He paused again before laying it over Jinn and leaving.

 

 

 

Miles waited patiently for Gregor to bring up the topic. But at the end of their discussion on Miles’s most recent cas,e which had kept him out of the capital for the past week and a half, Gregor seemed ready to let him go. Miles’s curiosity got the better of him.

“So how are things going with the boy,” Miles blurted.

Gregor seemed to consider the question before carefully reaching for another pastry. “He seems to be slowly coming to terms with palace life,” Gregor said carefully.

Miles frowned at this guarded response. He was both offended and a little hurt that his foster brother was discussing the boy’s progress. Hell he hadn’t even seen the kid. Surely if Miles could handle being Gregor’s second at his wedding and godfather to crown prince Ezar then he should know more about little what’s-his-name.

At sensing Miles’s angst brewing Gregor relented somewhat, “I would be quicker to introduce Jinn to friends and family if I knew what to expect from him. He hates being in the same room as Laisa or the boys. I’ve told her that it’s nothing personal and I’ve spoken to him about his behavior. Jinn apologizes but he doesn’t change. He also spends a great deal of time in the blue room on the fourth floor.”

Miles wrinkled an eyebrow, “what’s wrong with that room?”

Gregor made a face, “do you remember when your mother and father lived in the Residence for the first few years of your life? They did a major sweep and removed all of the portraits of Prince Serg. Except they forgot the one in that room.”

So the boy was obsessed over a dead relative? Miles knew a number of vor who spent time studying their family trees, that wasn’t new. But it was unnerving when the dead relative you were most interested in was a sadistic maniac.

“So he’s interested in his grandfather,” Miles said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

“We had a conversation about our shared genetics. Jinn tells me he has two short alleles for the MAOI gene,” Gregor admitted.

At Miles’s puzzled look Gregor continued, “The MAOI gene is involved in the breakdown of certain neurotransmitters in the brain, including dopamine. This translates to alterations in behavior. The short variant predisposes individuals to psychopathy and homicidal aggression, particularly in individuals who were abused as children.”

Shit.

Gregor looked distressed.

Miles tried to console him, “you know my mother would point out that genes and past circumstances don’t define one’s destiny.”

“Normally I would say ‘let’s see what happens’ but that would be… that would be downright criminal in this case,” Gregor breathed.

“Well I know the emperor is in a meeting but! But this was a heinous act!” A shrill voice called from the hallway. Gregor rubbed his face before swinging his legs off his desk and walking to the door. Miles turned to watch the emperor signal to his guards that they need not bar the door agains tthe hysterical man trying to get in.

“Ser Jolas, how can I help you today,” Gregor asked patiently.

Ser Evon Jolas, the most demanding and most in demand tutor in all of Vorbarra Sultana entered the room. “Sire, I mean no disrespect but this – this is disgusting,”Ser Jolas declared waving flimsies in front of the emperor. The man certainly had a flair for theatrics, Miles decided.

Gregor accepted the flimsies with little comment, though as he read the pages his eyebrows rose.

“Sire, we’ve spoken about your son’s abilities. It’s no one’s fault sire, but I told you he was barely literate. I gave him a simple homework assignment to write a story, a simple story, just to practice writing, and he hands me this! This filth. I can’t have it, I won’t have it. Sire, please, I must request that you speak with your – the boy,” Ser Jolas declared firmly.

“I see, Ser Jolas. Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Gregor stated quietly.

Ser Jolas frowned and looked as if he was ready to say more. But clearly the preeminent tutor of Vorbarra Sultana had some sense of decorum and chose not to lecture the emperor on how to raise his bastard. Instead the tutor retreated out the door.

“Is it bad,” Miles asked studying Gregor.

Gregor checked his chrono. “I should go talk to the boy. There’s time enough between now and the infrastructure briefing,” Gregor mused.

“Perhaps I can help. I have some experience with adolescent boys,” Miles suggested. Maybe now he would meet the little bastard and get a chance to assess him.

Gregor inquired as to where Jinn was. He was on the fourth floor, in the blue room. Miles tried to sneak a peek at what the boy had written unobtrusively. Gregor noticed almost immediately and simply handed Miles the flimsies. Which left Miles in a bit of a predicament, he could read what Jinn had written or he could scamper to keep up with Gregor’s strides, but it wasn’t possible to do both.

They entered the blue room to find Jinn sprawled out on his stomach, cyber gloves on his hands and playing a first person shooter game. “Jinn we need to talk,” Gregor said.

“Can’t, I’m busy killing Cetagandans,” Jinn said. His trigger finger twitched and an on screen character's head exploded.

Gregor attempted to control his scowl and asked in a reasonable tone, "Jinn, could you tell me about the writing assignment you handed in to Ser Jolas?"

“Oh, did you like it,” Jinn asked.

“Did I like the sentence, “bang me like a misaligned landing link of a shuttle port bangs a jumpship, Mr Dinosaur President”?”

Miles looked at the flimsies and actually found that line in the story.

“I thought it was a bit long winded, maybe there was a better way to ask for the sexy times,” Jinn hypothesized.

“I think you offended Ser Jolas greatly,” Gregor noted.

“Well what’s to be offended by?It's just a story about a Barrayaran man who has consensual sex with the Betan president, who happens to be a male dinosaur. Now was it the bestiality, the homosexuality or the fact that the dominant person was in fact a Betan that was the problem,” Jinn asked.

“I know you think this is amusing but you need to be more appropriate in the language you use when you are speaking as my son,” Gregor said with exasperation.

Jinn rolled his eyes, “you complained the other day that I didn’t have any direction in my life and now that I’m trying to find it you don’t approve.”

“It wasn’t a complaint so much as an observation, and how is this part of a reasonable career plan,” Gregor inquired.

“Maybe I want to write smutty romance novels. Wouldn’t that make you happy? We both know you don’t want me in the military,” Jinn noted.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t join the military, I want you to expand your horizons and consider careers outside the military," Gregor said.

Jinn snorted at this, his finger twitched again and another on screen character died with a scream. Gregor twitched.

Removing the sounds of dead bodies from this conversation would help, Miles thought.

“Jinn, wouldn’t you rather play something else. If you are considering a career in the Barrayaran military it would be in your best interest to turn off this game, we could play Galaxy Fighters which would be more useful in learning how to handle commanding a fleet,” Miles said.

It was a strategy game in which players received a random assortment of ships and used them on a variety of arenas from planets, to space stations to asteroids. The goal was to annihilate the opponents fleet and lay claim to the area in question. It was a game that was commonly played at the Imperial Service Academy.

Jinn immediately turned off the game and booted up the one Miles had mentioned. Gregor raised an eyebrow at this sudden obedience. Miles suspected that Jinn tended to be more recalcitrant. But Miles was not going to argue. Perhaps Jinn was just as army mad as the rest of the boys on Barrayar.

Jinn looked Miles over, “so how do you play this?”

Miles briefly explained the rules, the weapons that were available and how to use them. They started. Miles figured he would go easy on the boy.

“So you don’t like my romance novel career, and you’re not crazy about my military career well then what do you want,” Jinn asked.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have a romance novel career, I was unaware that this was the goal of your essay,” Gregor said carefully.

“You assumed I was just causing trouble,” Jinn said.

Gregor’s mouth thinned.

“It’s difficult for Gregor since he has to walk a fine line between being your father and being the emperor. Since you are his son you represent him and the empire even if you don’t have an official job within it. So inciting Ser Jolas to hysterics, no matter how amusing it is does not help Gregor,” Miles explained.

“Well then why send me for tutoring at all? What’s the point in my learning Barrayaran history and science and math? Why have me sit for hours in a classroom going over past perfect verbs in Russian? I learned Spanish and Arabic by living in the cultures not through a textpad,” Jinn pointed out.

“You learned Spanish while working for a bloodthirsty drug cartel who, if I understand the reports correctly, tried to kill you,” Gregor pointed out.

Jinn waved these facts away as one might try to brush away an irritating fly, “live and learn.”

Or die and set an example for others, Miles thought.

“How is this helping to find Cavilo anyway? Don’t you have any leads? Shouldn’t I be doing something besides sitting here, waiting for her to attack,” Jinn demanded irritably.

Miles was similarly restless over this matter. When they’d found Jinn Miles had anticipated the Cavilo wouldn’t be far behind with a plan to take the throne. But there was no evidence of her on or near Barrayar. No evidence that she’d sent agents to carry out her work either. What were her plans?

“I have competent agents looking into this matter,” Gregor promised.

“You have competent agents? So what? Why am I sitting here learning calculus when what I need to be doing is hunting down my mother before she attacks,” Jinn asked.

Gregor looked exasperated. This was not the first time this argument had occurred it seemed.

“How would you even begin to hunt her down when you don’t know the terrain,”Miles asked.

One of Jinn’s ships blew up. It had run into a space mine that Miles had set earlier.

“How did you do that,” Jinn asked.

Miles smiled and allowed the game to replay the scene.

“If you don’t know your environment, both the physical and political environment that is, you’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble,” Miles noted.

“So why not get me a native guide so he’ll know the environment and I can ask questions,” Jinn suggested.

“I am trying to give you a solid grounding on Barrayaran history and politics so you can understand your environment,” Gregor said.

“But do I really need all of those history and etiquette classes,” Jinn lamented.

“It will help you understand people’s attitudes so you can work with them rather than accidentally making an ass of yourself,” Miles said.

“Hm,” Jinn said. Miles managed to pick of another of Jinn’s ships. The kid was down to five, Miles still had his original twelve. He remembered he wasn’t supposed to go too hard on the boy and reluctantly let Jinn pick off two of his ships.

“But maybe I don’t need lessons on how to handle people. I mean I do well enough by myself,” Jinn insisted.

Gregor struggled to keep his face neutral.

“What if Cavilo decides not to resurface? What if she waits another six years? Are you really going to keep me hidden in the Residence for that long? What about my romance novel career? I’ve got like ten storylines planned out. How about a meticulous dinosaur-engineer and a politician looking to get re-elected get stranded on a satellite after a photo-op gets sabotaged by the political competition. What starts as dislike slowly turns to admiration as they have to work together to get back on planet and prove the underhanded tactics of the competition,” Jinn declared.

Miles tried to wrap his mind around a dinosaur engineer, he couldn’t imagine one working in narrow spaces, and forget about picking up and carefully positioning equipment without thumbs…

He blew up another one of Jinn’s ships. The boy was down to four.

“Why do you keep including dinosaurs in your romance novels,” Miles asked.

“Are you implying that I’ve been keeping you a prisoner inside the Residence,” Gregor asked, cutting to the real issue.

“I haven’t left this place since I got here. If I’m not a prisoner then why haven’t you let me out,” Jinn demanded.

“You haven’t asked to leave,” Gregor pointed out.

“I want to hunt down my mother,” Jinn said.

“When you’re ready,” Gregor said. Jinn scowled.

Miles didn’t know if it was because he was down to two ships or because he didn’t agree with his father’s assessment.

“Your father is just – shit,” Miles said staring at his screen, startled.

There were five explosions one right after the other on Miles’s screen. They took out all ten of his remaining ships.

“What did you do,” Miles demanded.

“You send your ships out to patrol certain areas on specific courses, they overlap. I figured out the smallest number of timed mines I could use to nail all of them at once,” Jinn said.

“You weren’t taking this game seriously,” Miles accused.

“Neither were you,” Jinn noted dismissively.

“This is not the first time you’ve played this game,” Miles accused.

“No, it’s not,” Jinn said calmly.

“Then why did you ask me for directions,” Miles demanded.

Jinn ignored the question, “are you going to keep me locked away in some tower like a princess or are you going to let me help in this investigation to find my mother?”

Gregor was staring at the screen. Jinn gave them both a look of disgust and stormed out.

“That little shit,” Miles muttered. 


	7. Chapter 7

Jinn supposed he ought to appreciate Gregor’s gesture. His father had decided to slowly start introducing Jinn to Barrayaran society. Tonight there would be a party at the Residence. It was not a major state function or celebration. But a relatively small party to celebrate the arrival of the new Betan Ambassadress. Jinn would be allowed to attend. 

He pulled on his cadet uniform, humming as he buttoned up the jacket. He thought things were going better. He had accidentally run into Laisa earlier and for the first time, being in her presence hadn’t given him shooting pains or the desire to murder her. He had likely offended her when he burst into relieved laughter at this turn of events and had asked her if she was wearing a new perfume. She was. Whatever it was must have been covering the subconscious scent that had been triggering his problems. Laisa had offered him a sick smile at his compliment. Jinn knew she didn’t like him. He scared her. Jinn just hoped she would continue to wear the new perfume.

Jinn showed up in time to receive the first guests with his father. In spite of what Ser Jolas might have expected, Jinn was perfectly capable of being a gentleman. Mostly he smiled a lot and deferred to Gregor rather than saying too much. But nobody complained.

The dinner itself was a chore to get through but Jinn did not bring dishonor upon the family name by using the salad fork with the steak which was served. He didn’t talk about his past, choosing instead to ask questions of guests and drawing them out. Though Laisa was close by he wasn’t obsessed with destroying her. Things were going well, at least socially.

But by the end of the meal Jinn was becoming annoyed at the close supervision he was under. He wanted to ascertain whether any of the staff or guests were working with Cavilo. No one made any obvious comments to Jinn. But he supposed that wouldn’t happen in front of Gregor who was always close by. 

Immediately after the dinner, as Gregor danced with the new ambassadress, Jinn slipped outside to think.

He didn’t quite know what he was looking for as he wandered among the small groups of men and women who were littered about the gardens. 

Jinn tensed as a man in red and blues approached him. 

“So you’re the bastard,” the man asked in a drunken drawl.

“That’s what they tell me,” Jinn agreed.

“Heard they scrapped you out of a gutter. You better not try anything funny,” the man informed him sternly.

Was this male bravado or was this a trick, Jinn wondered. The man puffed up his chest, the effort of which pushed him off balance. Definitely male bravado. Jinn didn’t need this.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jinn said turning away.

The guy caught his arm.

“Listen you little-“ the guy began.

“Captain Aminev, what are you doing,” a woman demanded sternly.

Jinn turned to see Henri Vorvolk’s wife, Estelle standing there looking sternly at the captain. 

“Lady Vorvolk, I, I didn’t want this –“ the captain began.

Estelle glared at him, “what were you doing to Jinn, your liege lord’s son?”

The captain, caught in the act of committing indirect violence against his liege lord, let go of Jinn’s arm.

“Just trying to protect the empire from danger,” Captin Aminev said. His certainty seemed to crumple under Estelle’s glare.

“You saved me,” Jinn said to Estelle in amusement.

Estelle shook her head as she watched Captain Aminev retreat.

“I hope he didn’t upset you,” Estelle said.

“Why would I be upset,” Jinn said dismissively. What did it matter what one idiot thought? It wasn’t as if Jinn would be staying anyway. Despite the temporary respite of Laisa’s perfume it was not a long term solution to Jinn’s murder problem.

“You know your father cares about you. You need to remember that regardless of what anyone says to you,” Estelle stated firmly.

“Words don’t bother me,” Jinn said dismissively.

The sound of something faint caught his attention. Was that music? It was not coming from the party inside, he thought. 

 

Jinn tried to sit up, white hot pain ran through his wrist, up his arm. A firm hand on his chest kept him lying down.

Jinn opened his eyes to look up at Dr Cosgrove, Gregor’s personal physician. Beyond him were Gregor and General Allegre. They all stared at Jinn intensely.

“Do you know where you are,” Cosgrove asked.

“On a couch, presumably in the Residence,” Jinn said trying again to sit up. Cosgrove pushed him back down. 

Why did his wrist hurt? Had he been in a fight? Jinn couldn’t’ remember.

He glanced out the window, it was still dark.

“What’s the last thing you remember,” Cosgrove asked.

“Uh, I was talking to Lady Estelle,” Jinn said furrowing his brow.

Allegre and Gregor exchanged looks. Jinn’s chest constricted. Had he done something to her? 

“Did something happen,” Jinn asked in alarm. Words don’t bother me, but they can control me, he thought feeling sick.

“Lady Estelle stated that you asked her if she heard something, then you took off running,” General Allegre stated.

Jinn didn’t remember that part.

“How’d I sprain my wrist,” Jinn asked.

“Apparently you tried to climb over one of the walls of the Residence. An ImpSec agent saw you and stunned you,” Allegre explained. 

“It’s fortunate you didn’t break your neck from the fall,” Gregor noted.

What the hell happened to me, he wondered. Was it something in the music he’d heard? 

“So you don’t remember climbing up the Residence wall,” Allegre inquired.

“No,” Jinn answered honestly.

“We have you on vid doing it,” Gregor noted. He seemed unusually quiet. Was he angry?

“I don’t doubt it,” Jinn said.

Cosgrove was studying Jinn.

“Have you ever had a dissociative episode like this before where you did something then forgot about it,” Cosgrove asked.

Jinn thought about it. When his mother had ordered him to do things in the past, he’d at least remembered the order and the actions. This was something new.

Jinn shook his head.

Cosgrove nodded slightly and turned back to Gregor. 

“Sire, a word outside if you will,” the physician requested.

Gregor nodded and the two stepped out, leaving Jinn alone with Allegre.

“Could I see the vid of me climbing,” Jinn requested.

Allegre studied him for a moment before nodding and quickly calling up the security footage on the holovid.

Jinn watched himself easily race towards the wall then spider monkey his way up. The movement wasn’t jerky or clumsy. His footing looked sure and his movements precise. Jinn did not look like he’d been sleep walking.

“Where was I going,” Jinn asked. He realized only after a moment that he’d asked the question aloud.

 

 

Cosgrove thought the boy was telling the truth when he said he didn’t remember running away. Gregor still wasn’t certain what to think. The party would have been the best time to slip out if the boy had some hare brained scheme to track down his mother. It was hard to believe that Jinn, who had been openly resentful about staying at the Residence, had suddenly gone into a fugue state and tried to leave right when it would have been easiest to escape due to the distraction of the party.

It was late and Gregor knew he should have been sleeping. But he had gotten out of bed, careful not to wake Laisa, and had headed downstairs to go for a short walk in the gardens. 

Gregor noticed the lights in the kitchen were on low and noted the hour on a chrono. He could hear faint music playing, the singer was a woman but he didn’t recognize the words. 

Gregor stepped in to find Jinn sitting on the island counter, watching the oven timer. The boy seemed tired and preoccupied. Gregor's mood softened towards the boy. Perhaps it had been some fugue state which had come over Jinn.

Jinn, sensing that he was being watched, turned to look at Gregor.

“Am I being too loud,” Jinn asked in a quiet, sincere tone.

“No,” Gregor said stepping into the kitchen.

Jinn turned back to turn off the timer before it went off. Jinn pulled on a glove and reached in to take out a pan of ghorayeba from the oven and set it on the countertop. 

Gregor didn’t understand the significance of this. He considered reminding the boy that Cosgrove had ordered bedrest for Jinn for the next few days. But there seemed no point in starting another fight.

“I don’t recognize the singer,” Gregor said.

“It’s Alaa Wasem, she’s Riyadi,” Jinn said.

Gregor vaguely remembered that the boy had been on Riyadhin a few years back during the failed Pink Revolution. 

“She sounds sad,” Gregor noted.

“It autobiographical, she’s singing about how she loved her husband a great deal. But when the secret police arrested her, Alaa’s courage failed and she denounced her husband who was taken away and never seen again. “Like leaves from a tree I fell away at the first signs of cold”. Alaa wants to atone and sings about going from prison to prison in search of him.”

A gruesome tale made all the worse if it was true, Gregor decided. 

“Does she find him,” Gregor asked.

“He was shot for anti-government activities. She died a year later, murdered for the same thing. So I guess she does find him,” Jinn said quietly. He bit into one of the pastries and chewed slowly. 

He hadn’t looked at Gregor since Gregor had stepped into the kitchen. The air of preoccupation surrounded Jinn.

“I think about murdering Laisa and the boys frequently. I don’t want to do it. But I’m worried I can’t stop myself,” Jinn admitted finally looking up at Gregor.

Gregor said nothing. Gregor had pleaded with whatever powers existed above him that none of his children carry the genes of madness. Those pleas had apparently fallen on deaf ears. 

“I need to leave. But please don’t exile me or send me off to some insane asylum. I’m sane enough to realize there’s something wrong,” Jinn continued. He was obviously scared.

“What would you like me to do,” Gregor asked finally.

“You have a country estate in your district. I was hoping I could go there and be treated by a psychiatrist. Any psychiatrist you could find. Somewhere away from people, but not too far,” Jinn said.

In that moment Gregor saw Jinn as a lonely little boy. 

“I can have that arranged,” Gregor said. It was the only thing he could think to offer.


	8. Chapter 8

“I’ll only be gone a few hours,” Gregor promised as he climbed into the lightflyers with his Imperial guards.

Laisa smiled, “we’ll be here when you get back.”

She’d been much happier since Jinn had moved to the country estate two weeks ago. Laisa expressed some remorse at this, wishing she could help. But the honest truth was that Jinn had always scared her. Gregor had told Laisa about the conversation he’d had with Jinn in the kitchen. It had only confirmed her beliefs. Gregor felt some guilt at this.

He had felt more guilt about not visiting the boy even once after Jinn had gone to the estate. Gregor had set aside time to speak with the boy on the commconsole several times a week but Jinn seemed to always be preoccupied during these calls.

At least until yesterday when Jinn had quietly asked Gregor to come see him today.

Jinn did not wish to discuss why over the commconsole. Gregor felt he owed the boy enough to go see him.

The flight to the estate, Vorbarra Sur Montagne was situated in the black mountains, a wooded area about two hours north of Vorbarra Sultana by lightflyer.

Jinn was at the estate when Gregor arrived. The psychiatrist had assured Gregor that the boy was making progress. But Jinn looked thinner, if possible, than before. While they lunched the boy stared distractedly out the window as the psychiatrist talked. Gregor allowed the man to prattle on before quietly speaking with his son.

“Could we go for a walk, just you and I,” Jinn asked.

The psychiatrist shrugged, “he has never professed a desire to kill you.”

Gregor gestured for the guards to leave him.

There would be agents in the woods, but they would be far enough away to give the two privacy.

“I hear you’ve been improving,” Gregor said carefully.

“Perhaps,” Jinn said looking straight ahead.

Gregor waited with growing impatience for the boy to open up to him.

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me,” Gregor prompted.

“Can we go a little further,” Jinn said.

“There’s no one around to hear us,” Gregor noted.

He wondered if the boy had some new theory on where Cavilo was.

“Just a little further,” Jinn said quietly.

Gregor allowed the boy to lead them on. He finally came to a stop by a fallen tree. The tree must have been struck by lightening, Gregor decided studying it. Gregor turned to Jinn. Jinn launched himself at Gregor. But he didn’t pull out a blade and stab Gregor. He didn’t try to strangle Gregor. Jinn kissed Gregor on the lips.

Instinctively Gregor pushed Jinn to the ground.

“What are you doing,” Gregor demanded.

Jinn didn’t say anything, he sat there waiting. Jinn was unnervingly calm considering what had happened.

“Was this what you called me out here for,” Gregor demanded.

He didn’t understand what had gotten into the boy’s head. Gregor suddenly felt light headed.

Gregor blinked, “did you drug me?”

“Someone checked me for weapons before you got here. They looked for syringes, powders, knives, and anything sharp or dangerous. Someone checked your food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. But if I choose to put lip balm on myself, no one bats an eyelash. It was the only way I could dose you,” Jinn admitted.

“But why,” Gregor asked as he fell to the ground.

“I’m not always in control of my actions,” Jinn admitted sadly.

 

 

 

Gregor woke slowly, the lights in the room seemed too bright and his mouth felt dry.

The floor Gregor lay on was cold and bare. He looked around the concrete bunker and couldn’t figure out where he was, except that he was in a cell, presumably underground. The door was shut and there was a single lightbulb that hung overhead. Gregor could hear the _tap tap tap_ of heels on concrete though.

Gregor sat up as the light in front of his door was blocked out. The door then opened with a horrible screech and there in the light stood a tiny woman, a teenaged boy and a larger man. They entered together.

“Greg, darling, it’s like you never left,” the woman said. There was venom in her eyes and a plasma arc in her hands.

The boy, Jinn slouched. He wore a hoodie up over his face as if he couldn’t stand to look at anyone.

The man lounged against the far wall, plasma arc in hand in case Gregor tried anything. The only thing Gregor could think to do was vomit. He managed to keep his food down.

“Jinn, how could you do this,” Gregor demanded.

Had the boy been working for his mother all along?

Cavilo smiled, “Don’t be so hard on our son Greg. He used to be so disobedient but I made sure he does what he’s told now. He’s a good boy.” 

Gregor glanced at Jinn who was staring at the floor.

“What are you talking about,” Gregor asked.

“Good old fashioned Jacksonian brainwashing. It does wonders. Makes me wish I’d been smarter and had you properly brainwashed. It’s much less work to have the Jacksonians do it rather than putting all that time and effort into seducing men. Thought it is much more costly,” she noted.

“You would use him like a puppet,” Gregor asked in disgust.

Cavilo smiled, “I’m sure you would have done the same with your other brats if you had realized how easy it makes dealing with them. Flavius darling, it would be in your best interest to give your father a kick in the ribs.”

Jinn walked towards Gregor, the same calm expression on his face. It didn’t change as he wound back and brought a booted foot into Gregor’s chest. Gregor in his weakened state could neither defend himself not get out of the way.

“Oh, I like that,” Cavilo murmured.

“You think this will get you the throne of Barrayar? Cavilo even though you’ve kidnapped me, we are on my home world. Do you know how many ImpSec agents are out looking for me? How long do you think you’ll survive,” Gregor demanded.

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me Greg, and frankly you’re wrong. You told your ImpSec agents that you wanted to have a talk with your son. As far as they know you’re still out in the woods with him. All Flavius has to do is go running back with a story of you falling to your death. He can return to the Residence, kill off that Komarran whore and her brats and ascend the throne,” Cavilo said.

“In case you haven’t realized Jinn is out here for psychiatric treatment. His psychiatrist has not declared him stable, no one will accept a psychotic emperor again. But you can’t kill both the psychiatrist and me without raising suspicion.”

Cavilo laughed, “the psychiatrist is on my payroll, why else would he keep claiming that Jinn is getting better? Did you really think the months of Jacksonian aversion creation therapy would be wiped away by a talking cure? Flavius still has the desire to kidnap your family and bash their brains in. Flavius is so close to murdering them on his own, he only needs a little push with that.”

Jinn was pacing now, the hoodie covered the upper half of his face. Gregor saw Jinn shaking his head from side to side. Gregor could tell the boy was agitated.

“Why are we still talking about this? We should be getting codes out of him now. Codes for missiles, for tanks, for blaster shields. Any information to make any possible resistance easier to deal with,” the man said.

Cavilo gave the man an annoyed look, then smiled, “if you want answers Antonius, feel free to obtain them.”

Antonius must be Cavilo’s lover of the week. Gregor could already see the man’s eventual betrayal and death by her hand when Antonius was no longer useful.

Antonius stepped forward, “How many of your men are currently present at the Imperial Residence and how many weapons are present?”

“I cannot tell you anything,” Gregor stated.

Antonius’s brow wrinkled, “because you don’t know?”

Cavilo rolled her eyes, “because he thinks he’s being heroic. Feel free to show him how wrong he is.”

Jinn walked out of the room. Antonius was about to call out to him.

Cavilo waved it off, “leave him alone. He has a a weak stomach. I’ll call Flavius back when we’re done.”

Gregor did not know why they didn’t use fast penta on him. Gregor suspected that Cavilo didn’t actually care about the answers to Antonius’s questions.

 Gregor did not know how long they spent in that little room. As Gregor began to regain his strength Cavilo was quick to dose him again with whatever drug Jinn had given him. Gregor existed in a fog of pain. Cavilo enjoyed this greatly.

Antonius only seemed more frustrated.

“We may need to keep him longer as a bargaining chip,” Antonius said.

Cavilo shook her head, “I made that mistake once. Never again. Go get Flavius. Tell him to bring the axe.”

Antonius considered her, then Gregor before turning and leaving.

“Did you ever think you’d die at the hands of your son,” Cavilo asked sweetly.

“I wanted better things for him than this,” Gregor said.

“Well, keep that thought in mind as he’s hacking you up. The axe I found for him is rather blunt, so it may take a while to finish the job,” Cavilo said.

They waited for Jinn to return.

“Where the hell is that boy? You raise a child and you expect him to be at least a little bit grateful,” Cavilo murmured shaking her head.

Scrapping on the concrete could be heard. A thin teenage boy in a hoodie appeared in the doorway, he was dragging the axe behind him.

“You’re feeling a bit theatrical today aren’t you,” Cavilo murmured looking him over.

“Flavius it would be in your best interest to dispatch Gregor with that axe in your hands,” Cavilo instructed.

“Any last words, Gregor,” Cavilo asked as Jinn came towards them.

“I wish I’d done more,” Gregor admitted. I wish I’d lived to see my children grow up. I wish I’d found out about Jinn before his mother had brainwashed him. Gregor closed his eyes.

Cavilo screamed as Jinn buried the axe in her arm. She dropped the plasma arc she’d been casually toying with.

“What the devil,” she demanded in shock and horror.

“The thing about voice commands, is that they only work if you can hear them,” Jinn murmured pushing back his hoodie to reveal the sound proof ear plugs he wore.

Gregor thought he ought to stop this, but he found the effort too much. Gregor watched his son hack his mother to death.

 

 

 

Gregor woke up in a white hospital bed in ImpMil.

Laisa burst into tears as he opened his eyes. She hugged him and they whispered promises and assurances to each other.

Miles broke into a huge smile and hugged Gregor next.

After the initial outburst of emotion, Gregor managed to ask the question. “What happened?”

“ImpSec found you in an old Barrayarn Bunker in the black mountains. Along with the remains of Cavilo and her cronies,” Miles explained.

Miles hesitated before offering Gregor a paper letter. Gregor took it and noted that the letter was hand written and had smudges of blood on it.

_I’m sorry for drugging you. Handing you over to Cavilo was the only way I thought I could get my mother to lower her guard. She thought she had won._ _I needed to kill her. I would never be free otherwise. I’m sorry but I also stole 1 million marks from your credit chit. I need to leave. Your family is very nice but I don’t belong with them. Knowing what I’m capable of, it’s not fair for me to stay. I killed a half dozen of her men in the bunker. But there are more scattered about. Most of them are trash that will drift away on their own. Only two traitors are within your ranks as far as I know. The psychiatrist Dr Kovak did it for money. The maid at the Residence, Maria Demidova, did it to protect her daughters whom Cavilo had gotten a hold of. I’m leaving it up to you to decide what to do._

-Jinn


End file.
